Ultimate Nyssa Glass, H. Burke [cat reading book .TXT] 📗

“Something wrong, dear?” Mrs. H cleared away Ellis’s dishes.

Nyssa swallowed. Ellis knew most of her past crimes—the ones she’d committed as a starving adolescent as well as those she’d been accused of falsely. It wasn’t like the “anonymous source” would poison him against her. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just been a rough day.”

“I can imagine.” Mrs. H clicked her tongue. “Getting robbed on the boardwalk? I’d faint dead away if that happened to me. You should go upstairs, loosen your corset, and lie down for a while.”

Nyssa stifled a grin. If getting her pocket picked would make Mrs. H faint, hearing my life story would probably kill her.

Nyssa ate a few more bites of chicken then helped Mrs. H with the dishes.

The anonymous source has to be Uncle Al. What’s his game? Turn the police against me as a form of harassment? He can’t believe I’d be so easily cowed. That man isn’t getting a cent from me.

She whisked a towel over a plate. Uncle Al had shown up two days after her mother died, and it took him less than two days to push her into petty theft and panhandling.

“I was only ten,” she mumbled.

“Hm?” Mrs. H looked up from the washbasin.

“Nothing.” Nyssa shoved the plate into a cabinet. The china clanked, and Mrs. H winced.

“You’re obviously tired.” She stepped in Nyssa’s way when the girl reached for another plate. “Why don’t you put your feet up until Master Ellis gets back?”

Instead of heading upstairs to the sitting room, Nyssa took a cup of tea into the workshop. Golden pools of light from the streetlamps pooled on the floor of the darkened room. The clocks in the display case ticked quietly, nearly synchronized, like a crowd slowly applauding.

Nyssa turned up the gaslight. Ellis’s fly zapper rested on top of his bench, not plugged into the voltaic pile. She picked it up and pressed a rubber button. The electrodes at the end spit out a few weary sparks then died.

She examined the mechanism. It had Ellis’s typical brilliant but straightforward style. His ability to cut through confusion and find a simple, elegant solution always impressed her.

Perhaps this is a little too simple, though. The wires can hold a temporary charge, but it dies too quickly. What if it were self-powered? Do they make portable voltaic piles? No, too complicated … what about a crank generator?

One of the older electric lanterns she’d gotten from the junk dealer had a crank generator.

Nyssa opened her cabinet and found it. The exterior glass was shattered, but hopefully the inner-workings were sound. She placed the lantern beside the fly zapper, took up a screwdriver, and began to dismantle it.

The pieces turned out to be more intricate than expected. Fetching her goggles, she switched them to the magnification setting and grabbed her smallest screwdriver. As she dissected her way into the inner workings of the lamp she carefully placed each screw on a magnetic tray.

The bell over the door rang. She looked up, but the magnification on her goggles made her head spin, so she quickly dropped her eyes back to the workbench.

“You’re working on my zapper?” It was Ellis.

She nodded. “I had an idea to power it. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all.” The floorboards squeaked under the wheels of his chair.

This time she raised her head slowly. The room around him was too blurry to focus on, but she could see his outline. “Did you identify the thief?”

“Yeah, about that ...” The floorboards creaked again, though Ellis didn’t move.

Nyssa pulled off her goggles and blinked several times. In the shadows by the door stood a small figure. He stepped closer, into the ring of light from the gas lamps, and Nyssa’s screwdriver hit the floor.

The boy from the boardwalk gave her a sheepish smile.

Chapter Four

“Ellis, what is he doing here?” Nyssa hissed.

“It kind of just happened. Theo, why don’t you head into the back and ask Mrs. Hampton for something to eat?”

The boy’s sheepish smile turned into a brilliant grin, and he dashed out of the room.

Nyssa exhaled and sat on the edge of the bench.

There’s a reasonable explanation for this. I’m sure there is. Ellis is going to explain, and then we’ll laugh, and  the boy will go home.

Ellis pushed his dark hair back from his forehead. “Well, I got down to the police station, and they obviously had the right kid, but … all I could think of was what you said about the gin-drinking father, so I started talking to him while the officers were filling out the paperwork.”

Nyssa winced, suddenly feeling guilty about her desire to send the boy home. “He had a sad story, I bet.” She tried to keep a cynical edge to her voice.

“Not really. In fact, he couldn’t tell me much about his family at all. Apparently he’s been on his own for a while now.” His fingers stroked the arms of his chair. “By the time the officer was done, I couldn’t bring myself to press charges for the theft. I mean, he doesn’t even know how old he is, but you saw him? He’s just a kid.”

“Yeah, jail wouldn’t do him any good.” Nyssa softened her expression. “I understand that, and respect it, but that still doesn’t explain why he’s here.”

“Well … even without charges, the officer said they couldn’t just release him onto the streets. Apparently the orphanage is full to bursting, so he’d have to stay in holding with the adult prisoners for at least a day or two …”

Realization crept over Nyssa as Ellis rambled on.

“So I asked if I could take charge of him for the time being.”

“Ellis, what were you thinking?” Nyssa jumped up. “You can’t just collect children. They’re not spare socket wrenches, for goodness sakes!”

“No one else was using him.” He laughed, but then his smile faded. “What was I supposed to do, Nyss? I couldn’t let them put him with drunks